


the gods can only reach you as far as your faith goes

by Chron_icles



Series: life lessons of an agnostic [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ishbalan | Ishvalan, Gen, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Edward Elric, POV Second Person, this is more or less a prologue for the au but i'll continue if people are interested
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:28:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chron_icles/pseuds/Chron_icles
Summary: Edward never expected much from Ishvala, anyways.
Series: life lessons of an agnostic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107302
Kudos: 42





	the gods can only reach you as far as your faith goes

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing for FMA! I might write more...
> 
> (btw Ed is born a year earlier than in canon)

Your blood becomes a death sentence, and you learn to deny it.

No one needs to tell you what to do. No one could. No one _will_.

So you teach yourself and you teach your little brother. How to speak, how to read, how to write in this new, foreign language. The house is too big for the two of you, but this is the 'home' left by the man who abandoned you. And Ishvala does say that family provides for one another.

You take it. You hated the house and the owner but you take it, anyways, because you have nothing else except for your brother. The nights are cold and filled with terror, but at least the days are a little more merciful.

You still miss home, though.

You learn to live with it.

You call each other by your new names: Edward and Alphonse. Elric. The names are neither sacred nor holy, they taste like copper in your tongue. It reminded you of ashes and gunpowder but you promised, you promised _Mom_ you would stay alive, and this is just a fraction of the price.

You keep your head down. You cover your hair and avert your eyes, and speaks in short, clipped sentences. Your brother closes all the curtains and locks the doors and never leaves the house because one Ishvalan may be excusable, but two is risky.

You are 7 and he's 5 with so many secrets, and it's not fair, but life never is.

* * *

Al thinks Winry is a blessing. You agree.

She looks at your white hair, at your red eyes and your dark skin, and sees more than just refugees. She claims you as friends. Family. She asks of the desert and its people and she _listens_ , even as your words turn into a jumbled mess of foreign syllables in heavy accent.

You wonder if one day you'll truly forget how to speak them.

Your mother tongue only feels natural in prayers, now. But you are neither devout nor a follower, so you have no wish to speak with the gods.

You doubt they will listen, anyways.

And when you speak with your brother, you speak in hushed whispers, a mix of two languages that have both turn so painfully familiar. Two sides, of those who steal and those who are stolen from, and you don't know where you stand now.

You've lost your family and you've gained another. Your people are gone and to side with their killers would be a betrayal, but the dead can't save you and you have to _survive_.

So you stay in the middle and hopes the world will spare you.

* * *

You were too naive.

Your little brother lied and claimed to be an only child. You come home, to find his body in a pool of blood, cold and almost lifeless.

_"You have to live, brother. Keep living."_

Your brother died in your arms.

(He took a piece of you, too.)

* * *

They said Ishvala hates those who try to play god. But Ishvala hasn't been playing god, either. Why else would She abandon your people? Why else would She forsake your mother?

You said, if Ishvala didn't save your brother, then you will bring him back yourself.

* * *

You failed.

* * *

Winry and Grandma Pinako still opens their door for you. You half-crawled your way to their home, down an arm and a leg, and they do not mind the blood you spill on their floor.

They almost couldn't believe you, though.

You told them, "I've seen war." You told them, "I knew what was coming for me."

They gave you new limbs made of metal, heavier but stronger. They do not bleed and honestly? It's very fitting. You already feel less alive.

Winry cries for you and Grandma asks of what you will do. You told them, "I want to be a soldier."

For knowledge, you said. For resources. To destroy the things that destroyed you and rebuilt the things you've lost and more.

You didn't tell them about the deal.

(For a moment you wonder, if Ishvala has been so disgusted by _that monster_ , She chose to forsake the rest of humanity.)

* * *

A year later, you laughed at the mirror.

Your eyes are not red and your hair is not white. Not anymore. Only your dark skin remains, now scarred and stained with blood. Maybe it's a curse or maybe it's what made you cursed.

Either way, you're no longer welcome in Ishvala's arms. If She exists, at all.

You sold your soul to the military.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm lonely, talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Chron_icles)!


End file.
